


Buddie Begins

by heartfounded



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag: 3x15, M/M, Missing Scenes, both the boys are helplessly in love idiots, christopher is a national treasure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23905957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfounded/pseuds/heartfounded
Summary: Eddie watches his boys with an amused smile. It’s not just moments with Christopher he would have missed – running late to school, school dances, lazy Sundays with Abuela – but these too. All the moments with Buck – Buck cooking them dinner, finding projects for Christopher that keeps them all busy and makes a mess of the living room, staying over just so he can make breakfast before he leaves in the morning. And…And it’s not just the moments of Christopher and Buck together, though they are some the brightest, but of all the times it’s just Buck and himself. Of all the quiet movie nights and long, go no where conversations shared over a couple of beers. Conversations that don’t need a destination because they’re already there.Together.
Relationships: Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 233





	Buddie Begins

There’s a bone deep cold that Eddie can’t chase away. Regardless of the blankets Howie and Hen heaped onto him in the ambulance. Regardless of the electric blankets and heating pads the hospital had insisted on to warm his temperature. Regardless of the six hot showers he’d taken since getting home from the hospital early Thursday. Regardless of Christopher curled next to him, his own personal space heater.

He would’ve forgone the hospital completely if it weren’t for the worried looks of the one-eighteen, his family, paired with an exhaustion so deep he had simply accepted their ministrations, too tired to do anything else. So, long as he was home in time for Christopher’s show-and-tell. He would’ve accepted anything that got him home in time.

Turning on his side to look at his son, he winces at the pain the shift sends shooting through his chest. Broken ribs suck. There isn’t much he can do except wait it out. Easier with Bobby placing him on leave the rest of this week and the next. At least he can take it easy on the couch without much guilt or pushing himself through twenty-four-hour shifts.

Christopher has a small smile, his face peaceful. Eddie marvels at it. How his kid can be so content, even in sleep. Gently, he pulls Christopher closer, so his head is pillowed on his chest, his arm wrapping around Christopher to hold him close. Selfish, maybe, to risk waking him up just so Eddie can have him closer. But he doesn’t care. 

Eddie could’ve lost this moment. And all the others. He could’ve missed _everything_.

Small hands fist into his shirt – an old, ratty army affiliated charity shirt he doesn’t remember getting – the only bit Christopher stirs. His breathing is still even, the same small smile on his lips.

Coming home to any empty house Thursday morning had been a torture that called back to Afghanistan. To wanting nothing more than his son in his arms, but him being impossibly out of reach. Carla had offered to take Christopher to the hospital that night (and he couldn’t thank her enough for keeping the news off, keeping the worry from Christopher till he could reassure his kid himself) and Buck had offered to pick him up early from school, but he had refused both. He didn’t want that worry for his son. Eddie didn’t want his son woken up just to be told he was in hospital or picked up by Buck just to read the worry on his face. Eddie wanted, rather he _needed_ , to tell Christopher that he was fine in person, and he had. Even with the dark circles, pale skin, and cuts, he told Christopher what happened. Reminded his son that he was always going to come back home to him. Accepted the crushing hug with a muffled grunt, burying his face against his son.

And now that he thought about it, in the fuzzy clarity that only came about in rare, quiet mornings like these where time stands still, he hadn’t been alone. He hadn’t come home to an empty house. Or rather, Buck had come home with him. Nor had he stayed in the hospital alone, Buck had been there waiting too. Buck took him home and later drove him to pick up Christopher Thursday afternoon. Buck had watched Christopher’s bone crushing hug. Buck had made dinner that night and had gotten up early to make pancakes for them before his shift.

Eddie hadn’t been alone. He had Buck.

Buck, Eddie knew, would’ve been there with Carla as Christopher gave his presentation Friday if it weren’t for his shift. Eddie also knew he tried to get out of it, overhearing his pleading with Mendez from shift three to cover with no luck.

So, he hadn’t been alone. He had Buck. Buck who is due back from his shift any minute.

Except maybe not, Eddie reminds himself. Buck has a life that isn’t narrowed down to himself and his kid. Buck has an apartment, other friends, and Maddie who need his attention. It’s presumptuous to assume, to expect, he’d come back here after his shift.

As the hour ticks by, he accepts that he’d been ridiculous for the assumption. Buck has other things in his life too. Eddie reminds himself to be thankful that Christopher remains asleep. That he gets to savor this moment. Normally, on a Saturday (or any day there’s no school), Christopher’s up around six – regardless of how much or how little slept he got. It’s almost eight and the kid hasn’t stirred. Eddie doesn’t plan on moving till he did.

He just wishes he didn’t feel so cold. An iciness he couldn’t quite shake.

Between Christopher still asleep and his reluctance to disturb him, Eddie drifts off. There were chores that he could be doing. As a single dad, there was always something that demanded his attention as he rarely finished one task to completion. Folding laundry abandoned to clean up the glitter Chris had accidently spilled, starting to replace a dimming light only to stop to help Chris with his reading homework. Sometimes it feels like he floats from one half started thing to the next, never quiet finishing anything but always moving. He doesn’t mind it, accepting that it came with the territory of single parent, but in his semi-wakefulness, it felt less like moving forward and more like he’s stagnant in his life.

The front door creaks up open, light footsteps following them, pulling Eddie from his thoughts.

Buck.

Eddie listens to the footsteps. He knows that Buck’s checking Christopher’s room first, then the living room, then the kitchen. It’s a testament to how much his friend knows his son, how integrated he is in their little family unit. Christopher – his son is truly too good to him - sometimes plays in him room quietly on non-school days or puts on cartoons when Eddie’s so exhausted from a shift he’s not sure he’ll be able to move let alone make something edible for his son. Somehow Buck manages to come over on those days – either with breakfast or stuff for pancakes, Christopher by his side, by the time Eddie stumbles out of bed.

Finally, Buck pops his head through Eddie’s door with a warm smile, soot staining his skin, and a box of donuts cradled carefully in his arms. Christopher’s favorite donuts he realizes - all the way from across town.

“Sorry for getting home so late. I picked up mail, promised a neighbor I’d get her groceries cause she had a nasty fall a few weeks back. And then I thought I’d get donuts from that bakery Christopher loves. The one on Magnolia? The traffic was awful, though.” The words tumble out of Buck in an excited, almost nervous, rush before his eyes take in the scene before him, both Eddie and Christopher in bed, his mouth making a small o before falling into a pleased smile. “I didn’t realize superman was still sleeping. Were you too? Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Wasn’t really asleep.” He mumbles, careful to keep his voice low. It’d be just his luck that Christopher wakes now. And while he knows Christopher would be excited to be up - more excited for donuts or Buck, he couldn’t be sure - there’s something with him still asleep that tugs at his heart. These days are so rare, he’s realizing. For all he knows, this could be the last time Christopher happily cuddles against him.

Something in his chest aches as he looks at Buck. Buck, off a double shift going out of his way for a neighbor and his son. Eddie tells himself it’s just his bruised ribs acting up.

“You okay?” He watches as Buck’s eyebrows knit together. Eddie wants to point out that he should be asking that. It’s not the worse he’s seen Buck, but he recognizes the soot and the tightness in his shoulders. Knows the signs of a bad shift. “And superman? Cause it’s not like him to be sleeping in on a Saturday. You, old man? Maybe.” Buck adds with a laugh.

“Yeah.” Eddie reassures him, giving his son a small squeeze. “Just enjoying a lazy day.”

That doesn’t stop Buck from crossing into his room, the donuts safely deposited on the kitchen table first. He leans against the bed next to Eddie, blue eyes taking in Christopher before settling on him.

“You sure?”

Eddie wants to shrink away from the look in Buck’s eyes, so intense with love and caring that he doesn’t know what to do with it. He nods, not trusting himself to speak. Not yet. Because he knows that he’s fine. He knows that his bruised ribs will heal.

But he can’t get rid of the chill that lingers in his bones.

“Uh,” It’s tempting to swallow the words, the truth, but Eddie pushes through because his kid is right there. His bright, wonderful son is asleep next to him – a moment he could’ve lost. “It’s silly.” He says, already pushing the truth into something small. Something manageable he can get out. “I’m cold. And I know have no reason to be, but I am. It… It’s like a phantom pain.”

“I get that.” Buck says softly, almost hesitantly. “A-After the tsunami, I felt the same way.”

Eddie reigns in his expression, more to keep from disturbing Christopher. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

Buck shakes his head. “No need. This is Diaz time, anyway.” He says, a small smile crinkling his nose. “Can I try something?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Can you move over? Just a bit.”

Eddie does as instructed, carefully shifting himself and Christopher over. Christopher mumbles in his sleep. Buck watches carefully, waiting a second before he slides into bed next to Eddie. Words of protest die in Eddie’s throat. Buck isn’t shy as he presses – as he _curls_ around - Eddie, burying his face into his neck.

“Better?” He whispers. Eddie has to strain to hear it. He _feels_ Buck’s lips move against his neck. It makes him shiver.

“You smell like smoke.”

“Mhm.”

“What?”

“Go to sleep, Eds.”

He doesn’t push, though it’s tempting. He wants to know about the call, about the smoke and soot and the tension in his shoulders, but in the time he takes to figure out how to ask, Buck’s breathing evens out.

Eddie sighs softly to himself, closing his eyes and drifting off again.

Fingers poke at him and it takes a second to reorient himself with both Christopher and Buck against him. And warm. Eddie is spectacularly and comfortably warm. A warmth that rivals the heating blankets heaped upon him before.

“Daddy.” Christopher whispers. Or tries too. It sounds more like a stage whisper. “When did Bucky get here?”

“Maybe a half hour ago? Longer? He brought you donuts.” The words are barely out of his mouth before Christopher is diving out of bed, leaving Eddie to debate how to pull himself away from Buck without waking him. He doesn’t want to, wishing his whole morning could be spent with two of his favorite boys in bed. Wishing he’d fallen asleep like this last night. He shakes his head at the ridiculous thought before carefully extracting himself. Buck doesn’t wake, though Eddie hovers by his bed just long enough to see Buck shift closer to where he had laid.

Eddie has to keep Christopher and himself from completely devouring the donuts, eventually making something more substantial but still light. (He knows his kid’s stomach when he over does it on sweets.) It’d be rude to not save any – even if it is well past breakfast time. Yet, he knows, even if they did, Buck would’ve put a fake show of being wounded before breaking into a wide grin. Buck wouldn’t care one bit in the end if it makes Christopher smile.

Buck must be exhausted, he thinks. It’s almost one. Christopher’s bouncing on his toes, begging to wake him up.

Eddie recognizes the tail end of a sugar rush – Christopher irritable and grumpy, refusing to accept the possibility he might need a nap. (Nine-year-old’s do not need naps; Christopher continues to inform him with a serious face that melts Eddie’s heart.) Or to at least play in his room quietly for bit so Eddie can attempt some productivity.

“Come on, Christopher.” Eddie says patiently. “Why don’t you play with Legos in your room? I know you were talking about finishing up that spaceship.”

Christopher sticks his chin out. “Yes, dad. A _starship_. I’m almost done, but I want to wake Buck. I want _him_ to help me.”

For what must be the eleventh time, Eddie shakes his head. He’d be offended if it weren’t for Chris’s eager smile and the fact Buck had helped him build it Thursday afternoon, Eddie keeping watch from the couch. Buck hadn’t allowed him to help. It was their thing. “Buck’s sleeping. He had a tough shift.”

“What happened?”

He resists the urge to thump his head on the table – more at the confusing forms loaded on his laptop than his son. “I’m not sure. He’ll tell us when he’s ready. And he’s still sleeping.” Eddie adds because he wouldn’t put it past his son to run in there and ask when Buck’s ready to talk.

“I don’t want to play with Legos. Can I help you?”

Eddie pulls Christopher onto his lap, explaining the insurance papers as he goes.

“Man, look at my two boys hard at work!” Buck exclaims, followed by a large clap of his hands.

Christopher is out of his lap in an instant.

“Come help me with my Legos!” He begs, pressing close to Buck’s leg.

“Christopher.” Eddie warns gently. Excited is one thing, rude is another. He takes a second to look over Buck where he stands in the doorway. His shoulders are more relaxed, smoothed out by the few hours of sleep, but soot still stains his skin. “How about you get started and Buck will help after he showers?” He suggests, sparing Buck from any sugar crash influenced backlash. “He’s pretty stinky, don’t you think?”

Christopher makes a show of sniffing the air then Buck before giving a slow, exaggerated nod.

Buck laughs, reaching down to ruffle his hair. “Okay, kiddo. Maybe I stink. No worse than your dad, though.”

Christopher nods again. Eddie rolls his eyes.

“And,” Eddie says, getting up from his seat at the table. Insurance papers can wait just a bit longer. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

“No one wants that, dad.”

“Hey!”

“I’m fine with the donuts. If there’s any left.” Buck raises his eyebrows at Christopher, who pretends to not notice. “Or I can make us something after I shower. Growing boys need more than doughnuts.”

“We both ate. Didn’t want to wake you – “

“I wanted to!” Christopher interjects.

“Cause you didn’t want your dear ol’ dad’s cooking?” Christopher only grins in answer.

“Don’t worry, I can make grilled cheese. And heat up tomato soup that Abuela dropped off earlier.” He adds for Buck’s benefit, knowing how canned soups offend him.

Eddie doesn’t miss the small shake of his son’s head, a look passing between Buck and Christopher, before he moves to his room. When did they start communicating in looks?

Buck watches him go before turning to Eddie. “Thanks. I’ll be quick.”

Eddie just nods.

Alone in the kitchen, he sets to the task of cooking lunch for Buck. Perhaps, cooking is too generous for what’s required of him: reheating soup and grilled cheese – something he can manage no matter what his son insists. Both of which he finishes quickly, ears picking up on the running shower. Eddie checks on Christopher, having left the food to keep warm until Buck’s ready. As he suspects, Christopher is asleep surrounded by a mess of Legos. He reigns in his cursing as he steps on a few in the process of getting Christopher safely deposited in bed.

“Little, plastic fuckers.” He grumbles on the walk back to the kitchen. The shower is still running, and he has a half a mind to check in on Buck, be he lets it be remembering the own advice he told his son.

In the time it takes to finish a few pages of the forms – Eddie deeply hates paperwork of any kind – Buck emerges from his bedroom, hair damp and fresher faced than before. No hints of soot or tension. For all that Buck looks better, he’s oddly silent as he sits down next to Eddie. There’s no comment on how managed a meal without burning or ruining either items. Nor words of love for his Abuela’s cooking.

A rarity for Buck. Abuela’s food is worth singing for. After a few too many beers, long after Christopher had gone to bed, Buck had literally sung to the leftovers they had hoped would suck up some of the booze months ago.

Eddie wonders how to pull Buck from his head. But like before, he doesn’t know what to say. Even now, after everything with Shannon, words, the right combination of them, still escapes him. So instead of asking directly after whatever call has Buck so twisted up and silent, he tries a different tactic.

“Think I can get Abuela to give me the recipe for her soup?” He asks, a hint of challenge in his voice.

Buck shakes his head. “No.”

“No?”

“Because you can’t cook.”

“It’s tomato soup.” Eddie argues.

“Which you can’t cook.”

“It can’t be that hard. You just blend and boil?” Which earns him both a dramatic sigh and a disgusted look from Buck. “Okay.” He raises his hands in defeat. “Maybe I can convince Abuela if _you_ promise to teach me and Christopher.”

“Eds, I’d love to, but uh… I kinda promised Christopher I wouldn’t?”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “Promised him what exactly?”

“I – That. That I would chill it on the cooking lessons after the pizza incident.” Buck, at least, has the sense to look a little sheepish. So, that’s where the knowing looks had come from. They were conspiring against him.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Eddie insists.

“It was _black_.”

“It wasn’t!”

“So was!” Christopher chimes in, up from his (too short) nap and high fiving Buck with gusto. Buck pulls him into his lap, whispering something in his ear that Eddie doesn’t catch but makes his son break out into a loud giggle. There’s an exchange of whispers and serious looks, before two sets of eyes turn to Eddie.

“We’ve come to an agreement.” Buck announces, Christopher following his lead with an overly serious expression.

“A very important one.” Christopher adds.

Eddie watches his boys with an amused smile. It’s not just moments with Christopher he would have missed – running late to school, school dances, lazy Sundays with Abuela – but these too. All the moments with Buck – Buck cooking them dinner, finding projects for Christopher that keeps them all busy and makes a mess of the living room, staying over just so he can make breakfast before he leaves in the morning. And…And it’s not just the moments of Christopher and Buck together, though they are some the brightest, but of all the times it’s just Buck and himself. Of all the quiet movie nights and long, go no where conversations shared over a couple of beers. Conversations that don’t need a destination because they’re already there.

Together.

“Mission control, to Eddie Diaz. You in there?” Buck adds the click of a radio after his words. He’d perfected the radio voice at the start of Christopher’s ongoing space obsession.

Eddie blinks. “Huh?”

Christopher is grinning. “You zoned out.”

“We were saying that if Christopher asks Abuela for the recipe, and maybe for the empanadas I love, then she’ll give it to him. Only if I promise to help with the cooking and you watching, of course. You know, for adult supervision.” Buck adds quickly before Eddie can point out any potential flaws in their plan.

“I’ll even wear that blue shirt Abuela loves.” Christopher adds.

“Oh, great idea, superman. What do you think I should wear?” Buck asks.

“What’d you bring?

Buck frowns, earning an instant groan from Christopher. “Sorry, buds. I didn’t bring anything near nice enough as your blue shirt.”

Christopher turns towards Eddie with puppy eyes, for which he just nods. Another thing he would’ve missed – the mind reading, how he and Christopher operate on the same wavelength. He watches as Chris leads Buck to his bedroom, promising to pick an outfit for him as well. Eddie smiles as clears off the table, already imaging the shirts Christopher is pulling and loving the idea of Buck in his shirt. Even if it’s not totally uncommon with Buck sometimes sleeping over unplanned, but those are sleep shirts and this is different. Eddie is almost giddy just thinking about it, imagining it.

He shakes his head, trying to clear it. He can’t be thinking about this.

Eddie pulls the legos from Christopher’s room, cursing openly at the few he steps on, before depositing them safely on the coffee table. Christopher has a pleased smile when they emerge from the bedroom, Buck winking at Eddie.

The afternoon passes in an easy comfort he’s thankful for. Buck makes a show of making sure Eddie is ‘fit for duty’ before he’s allowed to even touch a lego brick, never mind that he had carried them out here. Christopher takes charge, bossing them around about which pieces and parts go together. Reruns of cartoons fill the gaps between laughter and light conversation. For all that Buck is engaged with a bright smile that lights up his eyes, Eddie reads the hesitance, the small ways Buck holds back. Christopher remains oblivious so Eddie is silent on the matter as the afternoon passes them by.

After pizza and Toy Story, Christopher is down for the count, curled in Eddie’s lap in a way he hasn’t been in a while.

“Need help getting him to bed?” Buck’s voice is gentle, yet it still startles him. How long has he just been sitting here in the dark, rubbing Christopher’s back?

“Please.” Eddie answers. In truth, getting Christopher to bed, more so once he’s already out, is a one-person job. But he accepts the help because he can. After they get Christopher settled and tucked in, Eddie lingers a moment. He sits and watches his son sleep for some time.

When he walks back to the living room, Buck has pulled a few beers and is stretched all the way across the couch.

“Jeez, Buck.” He tries for joking because the tension is back in Buck’s shoulders. “Do I need to put you to bed too?”

Buck shakes his head. “No, jackass. I was keeping it warm for you.” He shifts to make room, sitting close enough that Eddie can feel the warmth. Long used to Buck’s particular need for touch, he pulls his friend close till he’s leaning into Eddie’s chest.

Eddie realizes quickly that neither will be comfortable, sitting half up with Buck leaned into him. So, with some careful rearranging that earns laughs from them both, they end up lying on their sides with Buck pulled close against him. There’s a moment of unsureness as he deliberates what to do with his arm before he commits to draping it across Buck’s waist. His cheeks warm as he realizes he’s the big spoon. Thankfully, Buck can’t see them redden.

“Your ribs okay?”

“They’re bruised on my left. Not my right.” Eddie reminds him.

“Okay, but are your ribs okay?”

Eddie nods, poking Buck’s shoulder. “You can pick.”

“You sure? Cause with you injured and all, I was going to let you pick.”

“Nah. Go ahead.”

Buck chooses some show Hen’s been dropping hints on to watch. It’s a medical drama, which surprises him a little, and he knows it’s going to be impossible to not comment on the inaccuracies and ridiculous of it.

“Karen likes it.” Buck explains after Eddie’s latest groan half-way into the first episode. “Hen needs other people to complain to it about to.”

“Makes sense. I’m sure Howie loves it.” Eddie adds. Howie loves anything that’s slightly ridiculous and quotable.

“It’s driving her mad.” Eddie can feel Buck’s chest rumble with a small laugh.

In the silence of the credits, Eddie takes a breath before speaking, forcing the words out. “Hey, how was shift? I should’ve asked earlier.”

Buck tenses – Eddie can feel it.

“It’s really nothing. Just an apartment building fire.” Buck answers.

There is nothing _just_ about an apartment fire. Rarely small, they’re lucky if it only spreads from unit to unit, not building to building. Burned bodies and hollowed halls burn against his eyelids. God, Buck had gone through that and came home – he had called his house _home_ – with donuts and a smile.

“Any casualties?”

Buck shakes his head, falling into another few minutes of silence as the next episode begins to play. Eddie worries his lip, wondering if he should push further or let it be. Words die on his lips, which is good because he had no idea what he was going to say.

“No. No, we got lucky. A few serious injuries, but other than that, no deaths. I just…” He trails off.

“I just what?” Eddies urges.

Instead of answering, Buck shifts – turning, Eddie realizes with a small smile because it takes some maneuvering to do so without falling off the couch – so they’re facing each other. So close that Buck’s breath tickles his nose. And he can a hint of tears in Buck’s eyes that threaten to spill over.

Buck exhales, making Eddie blink. “I almost _lost_ you, Eddie. And I can’t… I can’t stop unseeing the ladder truck fall or the mud or how everyone was acting like it was a recovery instead of a rescue and…And I just. I just need to hear that you’re okay.”

His blue eyes are wide and expectant as they search Eddie’s face. Eddie thinks of earlier, of Buck leaning in close to look over himself and Christopher in bed.

Words stick in Eddie’s throat, failing him as usual. Pulling Buck close – closer – he drops his forehead against Buck’s. For a minute, both are just breathing, staring at each other. Taking each other in.

“I’m here.” Eddie finally speaks, hating the roughness to his words; he wishes they were smooth. “I’m here.” He repeats. Fumbling for a second, he grabs Buck’s hand, pulling it up so it rests on his chest. Right on his heart.

“Feel that?” Buck nods. “I’m here and I’m _alive_. Because of Christopher. Because of you. Because of you both.” Now that’s he’s started, the words bubble up from somewhere deep in his stomach. “T-There was a moment when I… I stopped swimming. Everything was so cold, and my muscles were fried. I was exhausted. There wasn’t anything left to give. But - but what kept me going despite everything were memories. The first time Christopher called me daddy, the way his eyes crinkle up when he smiles without his glasses. The badge ceremony. Movie nights with you and Christopher. When you drove me to pick him up after the earthquake. _You_ , Buck. You and Christopher were – _are_ – my lifeline.”

The taste of salty tears has him thinking he should stop running his mouth. Buck’s crying too – short sniffles that he’s trying to reign in.

“If… If I had died would you have taken Christopher? Because I meant it. I meant what I said after the tsunami. There’s no one I trust more with him than you. I love you, Evan.”

Buck pulls his chin back. “What about your parents?”

“I think – I think I’m asking instead of my parents. If something were to happen, would you be his guardian?” He knows he’s gonna have to pay a ridiculous amount of money just have the words on paper. But he’d do it. It’d be worth every penny – to have the words officially recognized. The certainty is worth it so his parents can’t fight back. He makes a mental note to ask Hen – she’d know a good lawyer.

“Eds, you know I’m honored.” There’s a hiccup-y breathlessness to Buck’s words that has Eddie preparing for the inevitable ‘but’. “You have four sisters. Why not ask them? Wouldn’t you want Christopher raised with his cousins?”

Eddie doesn’t point out that he wants to raise Christopher. With Buck. Together. But if he can’t have together, he’ll be damned sure Christopher has Buck.

“They don’t know Christopher like you do.”

“That’s b- “

Eddie cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Maybe, but not how you do. You come over just to make breakfast because I can’t cook. You, Abuela, and Bobby are the only reasons he’s not eating chicken nuggets for dinner. You research exercises and stretches he can do and whatever subject has his intention. You help with chores without asking. If you’re not at work, you’re here. This morning you said you were late coming _home_. Buck, your practically his co-parent already.” And Eddie’s the idiot for not realizing it now till the words are already out his mouth.

Buck’s eyes are still wide, but softer. Fonder. “Okay. Oh-kay.” He repeats, drawing out the ‘o’ with a puff of air that tickles Eddie’s eyelashes. “I’ll sign whatever you need, but I can’t imagine your parents will happy with it.”

Buck’s hand still on his chest, Eddie reaches up to hold it there. Grounding him to this. To Buck. His uneasy relationship with his parents isn’t something he hides. The extent of it, though, is something he’s kept close to his chest – a mixture of shame and anger and wounded pride keeping the truth locked up.

“After Shannon left, they wanted to take Christopher. They wanted him to live with full time. I know that I wasn’t around much for the early years. I know that sometimes I was more of a stranger and name to him, but they – they didn’t want me to move on from that role. “

“So, you moved out here to LA.” Not for the first time, Buck finishes his sentences perfectly. So, Eddie nods because he doesn’t have anything left in him. Not to confirm that his parents would be pissed if they ever found out (because as he sees it, they don’t need to be informed or prepared) or to tell the other truth he keeps close. That Shannon asked for a divorce, dying before she could pursue it. Someday – just not tonight.

They both jump at the loud wail from the tv, sending them both into a laugh that’s a little strained but whole nonetheless.

There’s a click of recognition in Buck’s eyes before he’s speaking again, voice just about a whisper. “Wait, Edmundo Diaz, did you say you love me?”

Eddie’s confirmation is cut off by Buck kissing him. Buck is _kissing_ him. It’s slow, a little hesitant, but still somehow sure despite the saltiness from the earlier tears. Warm and right. Slow kisses turn into lazily making out. He’s sure he could do this for hours – for all he knows it might have been hours – but then Buck’s wincing and Eddie knows his leg is bothering him. If Eddie’s honest, his ribs are starting to ache too. Lightly, he taps Buck’s shoulder, indicating for him to sit up.

“We should go to bed.” He’s more breathless than he should be for such a lazy make out.

“But Christopher?”

“To sleep, Buck.” He clarifies with a laugh that makes him wince. “You’re like a damn koala and it’s the warmest I’ve been since the call.”

Buck doesn’t need convincing after that. They’re both in comfortable enough clothes that he doesn’t suggest changing. The events of the day are crashing down on him, leaving him aching for sleep. Anything that delays that is a no-go. Climbing into bed isn’t awkward. Buck pressing close and pulling the covers up across them both is so natural his eyes slip shut without a second thought.

And he’s warm. Pleasantly and comfortably warm. Till he’s not. Buck is gone with a mumble of words he struggles to sort through. Buck returns with Christopher in his arms. Because of course Buck would. Christopher doesn’t wake as Buck tucks him against Eddie before crawling back into bed, Eddie effectively sandwiched by his two favorite boys.

He starts to drift off as Buck whispers: “I love you too, Eddie. Abuela’s giving me her empanada recipe as soon as she knows.”

“Already does.” Eddie whispers back.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic fought me lol. i had a general outline and started writing the scenes out of order as i had the muse for it, but then as i started to put everything together and write everything else, it started going in a different direction. i'm still really happy with how it turned out!
> 
> also, i'm sure i'll write some missing scenes after the two-part finale, but i'd like to start doing more prompt based things (for all ships!!) so if you got something you're dying to see, leave a prompt in the comments or prompt me over on tumblr @911firefam!


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